


Would I Run off the World Someday?

by FoxyEgg



Series: Shitty Outlast Stories [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Attempted Murder, Bad Writing, Blood and Gore, Boy x boy, Chases, Chasing, Chris Saves Miles A Lot, Dark Past, Depression, Dom/sub, Experimentation, Gore, Hiding, Hiding in Plain Sight, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Morphogenic Engine, Murder, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outlast: Whistleblower, Rating: M, References to Depression, Relationship(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Walrider Miles Upshur, bxb - Freeform, oof, outlast - Freeform, trash writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-12-07 15:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyEgg/pseuds/FoxyEgg
Summary: I suck as summaries so let's just skip that-(Title is a lyric from Runaway by AURORA, great song.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's hope that I can actually make this good. I got a number of ideas from the story Little Pig, Little Pig by catlikeacat. It's so much better than mine so read that if you haven't! I'm thinking about making another story which will be after Outlast: Whistleblower where Miles gets saved by Waylon and some police people. It's a working progress idea alright.
> 
> Anywhoo, enjoy!

   Quickly Miles flipped on his night vision as he ran. As much as he wanted to clock these fuckers, he would probably brake his wimpy arm. Miles turned to look behind him and shrieked in fear, this guy was like two feet away from him. Miles turn back around in time to jump over a bed and _god_ is he happy that his mom forced him to learn some running and jumping techniques.

Turning back around, Miles's eye twitched, "Can you just, I don't know, stop?!" The guy just huffed and ran faster, now in a definite grabbing distance.

Miles gritted his teeth to hold back a scream, he took down his camera for a second under some light to save at least a teeny bit of battery life; then he plunged back into the darkness. He turned a sharp corner and slammed a door behind him to hopefully slow the guy down. He took back out his camera spying a locker. Miles heard the door being knocked down so he quickly slipped in. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose in quick shallow breaths. The man was about to open his locker after opening the others but turned and quickly ran. They only run away from a target when there's a bigger threat, Miles's throat closed and he felt like he was choking. Nothing came so he waited, Miles didn't want to move, what if when he stepped out and the larger threat came in? Miles shivered and his bottom lip twitched. He doesn't want to die. Miles just wanted to pass out, then he would be quieter. He opened his eyes and looked through the slits in the locker. Coast is clear. Miles opened the locker slowly and shut it behind him; time to follow more blood.

Now, despite his name, Miles is definitely not the most fit person, he is skinny, but not fit. This amount of running and sweating was terrible. Miles's stomach grumbled and he felt a tinge of pain, is there food here? He remembers passing a kitchen, maybe there's decent food there. He winced as his stomach growled a second time, harsher pain followed as he furrowed his brows in a frustrated manner. He made his way through hallway after hallway, passing dead, rotten, corpses and other freaky people, maybe got chased once. Alright, twice. Maybe four times but that besides the point.

His following blood trail can wait, food comes first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying to make each part longer for you guys, hope you're alright with longer waiting times for each chapter.

   Miles peaked into the kitchen and spied can of food, though there was a man standing close to them. Miles scanned the rest of the room but came to the conclusion that those cans were his only savior. He was about to make a quiet but short run for it as he saw the man cut up a corpse on eat it.

"What the... What the fuck?" Miles furrowed his brows in disbelief, this fucking man. Just ate. A mother fucking corpse. What is up this this place??

   Miles took a deep breath in and crouched, he will starve if he doesn't get something. Miles close his eyes and breathed in, preparing to die. He stayed crawling and went over to the cans, he had to doge multiple things as to not make sound. Miles quickly put cans in his jacket and retreated, he got about three cans, didn't want to get too much to drop them. That would be a dumb move. He smiled, maybe the food would be warm-ish but that'll be fine, as long as it's food, he'll eat it. He found a room that had light and he smiled at his recent stroke of luck. Peering down at the cans, he got soup, oranges, and black olives. He shrugged, that should be alright. (You guys are fucked up if you don't like green or black olives-) He heard a scream and whipped around, there was another guy running straight at him.

"What is wrong with this fucking place?!" Miles started into a sprint, this man didn't give up and chased Miles for straight up minutes.

Miles's legs (and him) wanted to die, he turned and saw the guy was alarmingly gaining on him fast. Miles was about to shoot back a smart ass comment but he smacked into a wall. He bounced back on his butt and winced as he landed on his tail bone. Miles looked up and- well shit, scratch that, it was not a wall; it was a man built like a brick wall. Nah, more like a concrete wall. _Chris Walker_. Out of all of the people here, he had to run face first into Chris.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I'm actually playing Outlast currently and oH bOi- 
> 
> Fun fact #2: I've realized that it's very hard to write when no one is really talking besides for the main character to them self... 
> 
> Also, I'm really super sorry for the wait! I had to go past my Grandma's death anniversary, not fun guys not fun.

   Miles wanted to die, Chris Walker was blocking his only way of escape from the other guy still screaming and running after Miles.

"Little pig." Chris said with his permanent pained grimace.

   Miles gritted his teeth (x2) and kept his eyes on Chris. Miles quickly kicked Chris's shin and jumped up running past him and climbing over some filing cabinets. He ran and decided not to look behind him because that's what got him in this mess in the first place. Miles saw an open vent and dropped his camera, jumping up and using all of his strength to haul his fat ass up. He crawled until he found a room with light; turns out it's a hallway. Miles slipped the cans of food out from under his arm (I would kill to have some chicken noodle soup right now, I'm sick and Wisconsin nights are cold. Like I'm not kidding, my nose is numb and I'm sitting under like, three quilts. Quilts are a must have for Wisconsin winter/spring thaw nights.) and set them down, smiling to himself. He peeked out after hearing footsteps below him and saw a variant holding a bat, not nice. Miles groaned and threw his head back, he forgot to get something to open the goddamned cans. He slipped out of the vent silently telling the food to stay.

"Why am I so dumb?" he said as he flicked his own forehead. Miles walked for a while, occasionally sneaking. He found the kitchen again and noticed the cannibal wasn't there, probably still dealing with Chris. Miles searched and found empty cans, cigarettes, human bodies, possibly human feces (???), and finally came across a relatively clean knife and fork. He skittered back to his vent and found his food still sitting there, great. (After all of his pain I can't take his food.) Miles sat cross-legged, slightly hunched and poked the soups lid. He pried open the cans lid and it exploded all over him, he now smelled rancid. (I can't take his food but I can torture him.)

Miles coughed and whined, "Ugh, what the hell can?! I thought we had a mutual understanding! I wish that I was a horned lizard so I could shoot blood from my eyes onto _you_!" Miles pointed at the can and threw it on the floor and peered down at it with his eyes squinting. "You are now banished, you _monster_."

   Miles slipped off his jacket and tried to ignore the smell which was impossible. No matter how hungry he was, he tested the next can, oranges. They turned out fine, no exploding and no raunchy smell. Miles quickly scarfed down the oranges and looked at the olives. The olives were also fine so he got to eat those too. He inhaled deeply and gagged, he forgot about the stank food coating himself and the sides of the vent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit had to ask my mom what happens when canned foods go bad, she told me they could explode, smell bad, and if it has rips in the can bacteria could get into it (no shit-), that gave me the idea of having it explode on poor Miles.


	4. Big Mother Fucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal Miles is comin' in hot guys!

He wanted to throw up again as he stared down at his fingers, now reduced to stubs. Miles's throat clamped down as the tinge of metallic blood and rotten soup invaded his nostrils. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, smearing blood across it. Miles heard the distant jingle of chains. Maybe he could let Chris kill him? It's not like he has family or friends, or hell, not even a lover. Fuck it. Miles jumped out of the vent and followed the sound of chains until he was standing right in front of Chris for the second time in this god awful night. 

"Please kill me," Miles said as Chris tilted his head.

"What?" It was so simple, but it made butterflies erupt in Miles's stomach. 

"Kill me. You know, strangle me, punch me to death, rip off my fucking head I don't know!" Miles grabbed Chris's huge hand and brought it up to his throat, urging Chris to strangle him. (Too many hims guys. TOO MANY-) Chris yanked back his hand with his nonexistent eyebrows raised. "Common man! Just do it!" Miles started to turn hysterical.

"Little Pig." Chris's breath was ragged and loud, as always, but it strangely game Miles some comfort. Chris lifted him from under his armpits.

"Finally, rip off my head now." Miles's eyes went wide as Chris patted his head. "Dude what the fuck?" Chris set him down and started to stomp off as Miles ran up to him, grabbing his wrist. "Please!"

"Stop," Chris growled and pulled Miles off of him.

"Why though!" Miles made it sound more like a complaint than an actual question.

"Stop." Chris push Miles off of him and grumbled. Miles fell on his ass and hissed, the glass being pushed farther in his back.

"Watch me fucking kill myself you dick." Miles narrowed his eyes at the door Chris walked through.


	5. Trying to Die Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, kazow, KABLOWIE I'M BACK! Yeah super sorry for the wait of this one, if you look on my profile, you'll see that I was working on an Outlast oneshot for my birthday (on May 10th just in case you wanted to know) with Miles, Walrider, Waylon, Lisa, and Waylon's babies (titled "New Story") and also working on two other Outlast stories (titled "Building" and "Punished", all three stories are gen works for Waylon and Miles, mostly told from 3rd POV for Miles), so yeah, it's been hectic. But I'm back with a bit of motivation.
> 
> Lots of humor in this, my humor is terrible, then again, everything of mine and of me are just terrible period.

Miles ran around screaming, “COME HERE! FRESH MEAT! RIGHT OVER ‘ERE! COME GETCHA FRESH MEAT!” And guess what? It fucking worked. A few variants waddled in and a few had cleavers and bats on the ready, some even had wood boards with nails on the end. 

 

“Awe, you ripped out those boards just for me? I’m flattered.” Miles chuckled. “Okay now kill me.” 

 

They rushed at him but skidded to a stop. 

 

“Oh common! I’m not that rotten smelling, am I?” Miles pulled up his shirt and sniffed it, his nose immediately recoiling into his face. “Ugh, okay then.” 

 

He looked up and followed all of their eyes, noticing they weren’t focused on him, they were focused  _ behind him _ . He turned his body, not his legs, only his  _ torso _ , and found Chris looming over him, glaring at the variants; him included.

 

“Oh, hey Chris! You made it to the party!” Miles made little “poof” and “zip” noises to emulate a party (he also did jazz hands because… He’s Miles).

 

Chris huffed hand clutched the top of Miles’s head.

 

“Oooooo! Are you gonna crack my head like an egg? Here, I’ll stand still.” Miles bit his lip and waited, his head didn't crack, though he was lifted and placed behind Chris. By his fucking head. By Chris Walker. By Strong Fat. By Big Fucker. By Brick Wall. By  _ Concrete  _ Wall. By PTSD-self-mutilating-oddball.

 

“No, Little Pig,” PTSD-self-mutilating-oddball hissed, his fucking  _ breeeeeeeaaaaaaaathing though-  _ A not sharpest bulb in the toolshed decided to run at Miles.

 

‘ _ Fuck yeah _ .’ This was definitely welcomed. Miles was only smacked on the cheek by a nail on a board before Chris swiped the guy away, successfully ripping the variant’s head off. Miles then proceeded to groan in agony and lean very far back, letting his arms fall by him. 

 

“Ugh that was supposed to end with me dead Chris- Chris? ARE YOU EVEN FUCKING LISTENING TO ME CHRIS! YOU KNOW WHAT?! FUCK YOU  _ AND _ YOUR LAME ASS WAY OF KILLING PEOPLE!” Miles screeched as Chris started to walk away whos shoulders were jumping up and down. ‘ _ He’s silently laughing at me… FUCK HIM AND MY LIFE! _ ’

 

“I will find a way… Mark my words…”


	6. Anything?

Miles on the next day decided to wash up. He waddled to the shower room, avoiding maybe… Two or three variants. He turned on the shower, quickly yanking back his hand once it turned on. Miles’s face contorted in worry at the thought of someone opening the door when he’s naked and showering, that won’t happen. Yeah, or shit will it? He kinda did just jinx it. Miles sighed and shook his head.

 

‘ _ What’s the chance? _ ’ 

 

He narrowed his eyes at the door and stripped into his boxers, the then proceeded to walk over to the door and press his ear to it, listening; clear. He returned to the shower and stripped his only form of protection against any beady eyes. His underwear. He didn’t want to look down at what he was walking on.

 

‘ _ For fucks sake I thought I was over this. _ ’ 

 

He was done washing in record time, but he didn’t get out, he sat down, a shiver running up his spine at the thought of  _ what  _ he was sitting on; sitting naked at that. 

 

‘ _ Is there glass around? Nails? Wood splinters? ANYTHING?? _ ’ Miles scrambled up and rifled through the trash laying on the floors, anything sharp would do. 

 

Walrider was screeching in his ear, the things garbled words were probably telling him “no” and to “fucking stop it”. Walrider can heal him, right? What’s the fucking point in self-harm then? Miles has no clue. Maybe the feeling? Maybe the thought? He was sweating when the found it, a glass bottle. He picked it up and turned it around, then shrugged and tossed it on the ground, stabbing his feet. 

 

‘ _ That can be healed, though. _ ’

 

He took one shard sharp enough and brought it to his skin, he recoiled first. 

 

‘ _ Think about this Miles… _ ’ 

 

But he just shook his head and brought it back, he pressed the shard down lightly, his grip faltering and nearly dropping the thing. He growled and pressed it harder, a slight pinch of pain pricked it’s way up his arm, making him twitch. It was a dud, only a light pink line was left. 

 

He hissed, ‘ _ no, no, no, I want to  _ **_bleed_ ** _. _ ’

 

He bent his wrist to give more access and held his arm in a weird way, pressing down hard and dragging it across. Little, itty, bitty drops formed. He smiled sadly and continued, the ‘satisfaction’ couldn’t cut through the numbness. He couldn’t even feel it by the time he was finished, his arms were numb. He furrowed his brows and his lip twitched as he let his head fall back onto the wall.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I specialize in self harm and depression yet?


End file.
